Strawberry Wine
by Pollensalta
Summary: Post game; rated R for future chapters. It's time for Tifa Lockheart to move on, though it's not easy. But it seems she has a secret admirer. Who is it? Hint: his name starts with an "R"...
1. Strawberry Wine

  


  
  


Strawberry Wine  
by: Pollensalta 

Chapter One 

The silver spoon stirred the coffee within the porcelain cup, reverberating with a musical tingle. She smiled at the scent of hazelnut it emitted and the fulfilling warmth a mere sip of it provided. She stole a quick glance out of the café's window, noticing the white snow blanketing the evening streets of Kalm. Several pedestrians passed by, clutching their winter coats closer to their shivering bodies, small clouds of frosty breath eschewing from their mouths. 

_Looks like I'm going to need this warmth more so than usual_, she thought with an amused grin playing about her face. 

When she brought the rim of the white coffee mug to her lips for another hearty sip, one of the café's waitresses came by her booth; she was a young woman about nineteen years of age with bouncy red hair and such a petite body that she could probably fit into a size 0. Hey Tifa. You came to escape the cold too, huh? 

The brunette seated comfortably on the booth's plush seats glanced up to the waitress with a warm smile. That and a whole lot of other things, Soleil, she said with a bit of a laugh. 

Ah, lonely bachelorette scene again? 

You betcha. 

Soleil giggled, then stood poised and ready to scribble something down on the notepad she carried with her. So, can I getcha anything else? 

No thanks, Tifa politely declined. 

I'll see if I can get you a man, then. How about that? the redhead teased. There are lots of single and cold men here tonight too. You just might get lucky tonight! 

Laughing softly, Tifa shook her head. Sometimes Soleil's straightforwardness and teasing was too amusing for her to even bear; but she had to admit, it was that amusement, as well as the cozy and pleasant atmosphere, that made Tifa come to the Kalm Kup nearly every night. It helped ease her soul and took her mind off her lonesomeness. 

Well, I got a job to do. And let me know when something interesting happens, Soleil began to step away from the booth, but Tifa could still see the mischievous smirk she possessed, you getting the stick out of your butt and gracing us with another song on the piano or the mic. 

After Soleil departed, Tifa Lockheart giggled and continued staring out of the café's windows at the city life. Through the inclement weather, she could still espy several people hurrying to the comforts of the indoors. Some were in pairs, walking hand-in-hand or clutching each other's arms for warmth and above all, love. 

She couldn't help but sigh, feeling a tad envious. Many times she had wished for the company of a man, and she had her pick from a myriad suitors But they all played second fiddle to a certain childhood friend of hers. Cloud Strife. 

_There you go again, Lockheart. Stop thinking about him_, she told herself, in her thoughts. _You were the one who agreed to move on with your life because you realized whom he truly loved; stop trying to find him in everyone you try to meet _

Tifa groaned and abruptly stood up after finishing her hazelnut coffee. She calmly stepped over to an area of the small café specifically designed for those with musical talent; the owner of the Kalm Kup had arranged open mic nights, karaoke nights, piano nights so that any patrons with poetry or a song were free to express themselves. Tifa sought to do just that. 

While she didn't have an exceptionally beautiful singing voice, she did have some talent. Her mother had introduced her to playing the piano and arranged for her to have voice lessons—the latter of which ended at the age of eight when her mother died. Though her inspiration and love for music had somewhat faded, Tifa knew that if she didn't beg her father to let her become a student of the infamous traveling martial artist Zangan, she'd become a musician of sorts. 

Hi there, Brennan, Tifa greeted one of the café's regular musicians. 

The raven-haired young man glanced up from tightening the strings to his adored guitar and smiled widely at the beauteous brunette standing before him. Hey, Tifa! 

How's it going tonight? 

Same ol', same ol', Brennan replied while casually stroking the cleanly cut goatee at his chin. Half the band's not here and the weather's screwed up our audience. No one can get into the café and no one can leave, either. 

Tifa took a quick glance at the makeshift stage, which was really a corner surrounded by chairs and small tables, decorated with a piano. The band Brennan played with brought a drum set with them into the café when they began frequenting the place, too. 

Open mic night then, huh? she commented. 

Yeah. And no one's got the bal—er, he cleared his throat, stopping himself from swearing in front of Tifa, guts to come up and sing or talk or tell jokes. 

Mind if I give it a shot? 

Brennan grinned. Of course. Whatcha gonna play? Strawberry Wine again? 

One of Tifa's eyebrows raised in thought. True, she loved that song, but that was a horse beaten to death one too many times. It was time for something new. she said while shaking her head. How about that tune Vanilla sang for us last week? 

Brennan nodded and gave his band mates the signal for the song. They nodded to him in return and began preparing their instruments to play while Tifa moved to the center of the stage'. 

She thanked her lucky stars for the snow. Otherwise, the very small crowd of people within the café that actually paid attention to the provided entertainment would have been twice their amount that eve. And Tifa had always suffered from a slight case of stage fright. However, it only took her one note to get her going. 

Tifa, with the microphone in hand, looked to the ensemble, signaling her readiness. Soft and calming music, a medley of a ballad and blues, resounded in response. Brennan was exceptional with his guitar skills as was the drummer, and their respective instruments were prevailing—second only to Tifa's vocals. 

_I'm not looking for someone to talk to  
I've got my friends; I'm more than OK.  
I've got more than a girl could wish for  
I live my dreams but it's not all they say.  
Still I believe I'm missing something real.  
I need someone who really sees me_

_Don't wanna wake up alone anymore  
Still believing you'll walk through my door.  
All I need is to know it's for sure  
Then I'll give all the love in the world_

_I've often wondered if love's an illusion  
Just to get you through the loneliest days.  
I can't criticize it---I have no hesitation.  
My imagination just stole me away.  
Still I believe I'm missing something real.  
I need someone who really sees me._

_Don't wanna wake up alone anymore  
Still believing you'll walk through my door.  
All I need is to know it's for sure  
Then I'll give all the love in the world_

_Love's for a lifetime, not for a moment.  
So how could I throw it away?  
Yeah, I'm only human  
And nights grow colder  
With no one to love me that way.  
Yeah, I need someone who really sees me._

_And I won't wake up alone anymore.  
Still believing you'll walk through my door.  
You'll reach for me and I'll know it's for sure  
Then I'll give all the love in the world _

* * * * 

After her near flawless performance (it would have been perfect, but one of the band members ended up blubbering), Tifa received a decent round of applause—actually, it sounded more like a jazz club applause, identical to the sounds of a small group of people snapping their fingers instead of clapping their hands. Then she allowed other amateurs to take their chances at the microphone and prepared to go back to her booth. 

Soleil stalled her, however. Hey, nice performance there, she commented and handed Tifa a small bottle. The glass was translucent and gold foiled was wrapped over a cork that kept its visible soft pink from spilling. A beautiful silk white ribbon was tied about its neck. 

_Strawberry wine? _

Thanks Soleil Tifa eyed the classy bottle. She could only begin to imagine how much gil it was worth. 

Don't thank me, Teef, Soleil put on another one of her infamous smirks. Thank the guy who bought it for you. 

To that, Tifa arched an eyebrow. 

I don't know. He told me to give it to you. Soleil shrugged, still smirking. But he's hot. 

Tifa nearly lost her grip on the bottle. _Be still my heart._

Was this guyCloud, by any chance? she asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. 

Soleil's pert nose scrunched up. Cloud? Is he that guy with the spiky blonde hair that came in here with you the first time? 

Tifa quietly nodded her reply. Then Soleil shook her head, much to the brunette's dismay. was all Tifa could say. 

Noticing the look of chagrin on her friend's face, Soleil gesticulated to some place in the café over her shoulder with her thumb. He's over there, though, she added. 

Once again, Tifa could not contain herself (though she was not as excited as she was prior to knowing that the generous person was _not_ Cloud). She glanced in the indicated direction. The shadows of the mystery man's cornered booth combined with the already dim lights of the café concealed him rather well. And for a while there, Tifa couldn't identify him. 

With more careful observation, however, she was able to see that this person did not have that spiked mane of golden hair she opted for him to have. But she _did_ recognize his face. 

**~ Fin? ~**

**Disclaimer:** _Blah blah, yackety schmakety, all characters property of their respective owners. The song Tifa sang is All the Love in the World, by The Corrs, from their album, In Blue._

**Author's Notes:** _Silly me, leaving you hanging like that. I was considering leaving it as is but then I felt the need to continue this. So, who should the fan be? I'm trying to be original here and am not going to make it Cloud (but don't get me wrong, I totally support Tifa and Cloud pairings!)----However, I am open to all suggestions within reason! Vincent? Reno? Han Daehan (from Ehrgeiz)? Original character? Anyone else? PLEASE let me know in either a review or an e-mail (no preference). And, uh, the one with the most votes will win?_


	2. Beauty Mark

  


  
  


Strawberry Wine  
by: Pollensalta 

Chapter Two 

_Man! Rude, is it just me or is Midgar lookin' shittier and shittier with each passing day? asked a seemingly lanky built man who wore his navy blue uniform and his red hair in a rebellious fashion. His stride was casual and cocky. The way he tapped his nightstick against his shoulder added more to the confidence that lingered about him._

_Beside him strolled his confidante, although with a more upright and militant step. His appearance was also strikingly different. His similarly colored uniform wasn't loosened or unbuttoned, unlike the lady-killer at his side—instead, it was pressed and clean, with military creases. And he wore his shades _over_ his eyes, rather than perched up in his hair (which he lacked)._

_He said nothing and continued on with his walk through the dank streets of Midgar, ignoring the prostitutes lurking on nearly every corner, the litter here and there, and the God-awful smell. It was as if he was impervious to it all._

_Actually, he was just in the mood for a drink._

_And so was his friend._

_You sure this bar's in Sector Seven and not Sector Six? I mean, everyone knows the best bars and entertainment's there_

_I'm sure because I've been there once before. And the name of it gives it away, Reno._

_And what's the name of it again?_

_Seventh Heaven._

_Reno suddenly stopped walking and gawked at his stoic co-worker. You're taking me to a bar named after that TV show!?_

_Rude's fixed countenance did not waiver, despite the outburst. For what it's worth, it's got a good reputation for having the best Tequila Sunrise's around. The man paused in his walking for a bit. How do you know about that TV show anyway?_

_That caused Reno to shake a hand at the topic, dismissively, and the two Turks started walking again. Jennifer used to watch that crap all the time. She even taped the damned show._

_They passed some battered homes and shops, the brightly lit sign of the Seventh Heaven Bar coming into their view. Rude cleared his throat and spoke again: _

__

_Her name was Janelle, Rude stated, firmly. Janelle Deaengelo. She works as a secretary on the forty-fifth floor of the HQ._

_Well hot damn, Rude! You remember more about her than I do! Reno snickered and patted the serious caramel-skinned man on his back as the two trotted casually up the porch steps that led to their destination._

_Not surprising. _

_Indeed it wasn't. Everyone that worked in the Shinra Headquarters building knew of Reno's reputation amongst the ladies, even Reno himself. The way he flirted with the women at every given moment, the way he'd flash them his charming lopsided grin He was never out of their bathroom or teatime gossip sessions, that's for sure. It was as if his reputation for loving-and-leaving and barely remembering their names didn't bother them. Or him._

_Endorphins. That had to be it. _

_The door to the bar swung open, a bell above it tinkling and signaling the proprietor of two new well-dressed customers to add to the four already within. Rude stepped in first and Reno followed him in. And frowned._

_It was definitely what he did _not_ expect. The bar, if he dared called it that, was small, with only a few seats and a handful of stools lined up along a sturdy wooden counter. Behind that counter were several shelves holding shiny glasses and bottles of alcohol. A portable two-burner stove stood in a dark corner on the left side and on the opposite side of the room stood a funny looking pinball machine._

_This has _got_ to be a joke, Rude. _

_If it is, please feel free to laugh at any given moment. _

_Reno alighted himself onto the stool beside Rude, laying the nightstick across his own lap. I'm serious. Why'd you take me to this dump? I'd rather drink that canned sewer water in the vending machines back at HQ!_

_Rude shrugged and gestured towards the bar's exit for he had no intentions of leaving the dump'. Reno would have done so if a pleasant voice from behind the counter hadn't stalled him and forced him to turn around._

_Welcome to Seventh Heaven. What can I getcha?_

_That was the first time he had ever seen her. Tifa Lockheart. She possessed a heart spun of pure gold, and her considerate nature never ceased to amaze him. However, she also had a fierce will and sense of justice, and was known to have quite the temper. Rumors about her being the best student of the infamous wandering martial artist Zangan, capable of lifting Nibel Wolves over her head with ease floated about and Reno did not doubt them. _

_And, admittedly, he was intrigued by that._

_His friend Rude appeared to be so as well, as revealed to him months later in the jungles of Gongaga._

_Ever since that eve, both Turks spent the greater part of their spare time at her bar. Tifa had started a tab for them and the two of them became her best customers within weeks. However, that all changed when a group began frequenting the bar: a girl with looks not worth writing home about and sepia colored hair, a young man with dark brown hair and so much machismo it was sickening (really, that red headband was just friggin' ridiculous), a fat man in his early thirties, and finally, the most interesting of the troupe, a largely built black man with a gatling gun for a hand and a fuse shorter than a cheap warehouse basement._

_Needless to say, Reno didn't care for them and could have lived without those dirty looks they presented him and Rude whenever they stepped foot into the bar. Many times, the gun-for-a-hand-man (his name was Bullet or Barret or something) would begin to throw a fit when he had a glimpse of those navy suits but it only took a few hushed words from Tifa to tame him. She was quite the lady._

_It was a shame President Shinra's orders required him to drop the plate onto Sector Seven and to dispose of AVALANCHE._

* * * * 

Hey, waitress. C'mere. 

The waitress with the hair of an obviously dyed black cherry hue stopped in her tracks and turned to face him, a slight scowl gracing her youthful face. The scowl then faded when she noticed how they nearly shared the same shade of hair and how incredibly handsome he was. Even with those two scars. They make us wear name tags on our uniforms for a reason, you know. 

Yeah whatever. Listen, he motioned for the waitress named Soleil to come closer to him with his index. She obliged and stepped over. Can you do me a favor? he asked. He smelled of tobacco. 

You'll have to put out that cancer stick first, Soleil said, flashing him a smirk and pointing to the convenient No Smoking' sign hanging above the café's ingress then wrinkled her nose at the lingering smoke. 

The man's lips formed a sneer around his cigarette but he nevertheless extinguished it by inconsiderately tossing it into the complimentary glass of water. He blew out a long trail of smoke before speaking, Ya happy now? 

Soleil could have sworn she heard him murmur something that rhymed with witch', but couldn't make it out due to the volume of the lovely voice singing for open mic night. So what do you want me to do? she asked him. 

He dug into the confines of his black leather jacket and withdrew a small wine bottle. Give this to the girl that's singing. 

Who? You mean Tifa? 

No. Barbara Walters, his words were caustic and grouchy, accompanied by a roll of his Mako eyes. Yes. Tifa. 

My my. Aren't you the cranky one? 

Look, can you do me this favor or do you _not_ want a tip? 

Soleil sighed, knowing good and well that this redhead had been her best tipper ever since he began frequenting the café for nearly two weeks. It wasn't everyday she received a hefty 300 gil tip for pouring someone coffee-he must've had a damned good job to coolly fork over money that had helped pay her car note and her rent; and she wasn't about to let him slip away so easily. Alright, fine. Keep your shirt on. I'll give it to her. 

The man flashed her a confident grin, as if he were to say: I know you want me to take it off. Instead, he winked at her in thanks. 

Before she walked away, though, she paused. Who should I say it's from? 

Don't worry about that and just give it to her. 

The female redhead shrugged and made her way over to the band as the crowd's round of applause resonated throughout the café, the bottle of strawberry wine in her grasp. From his seat, the man saw Soleil approach Tifa, and though they weren't in the range of his hearing, he could tell by the brunette's lovely face that she was burning with the desire to know who had sent the gift. 

He smirked. And simply waited. 

* * * * 

Tifa Lockheart's slender eyebrows lifted in surprise. _Reno?_ He was the last person she'd expect to give her such a gift. She side glanced towards Soleil and found the waitress leering at her like the Cheshire cat. 

Aren'tcha gonna approach him? Soleil's voice was almost teasing. I meanstrawberry wine is rare and expensive nowadays. At least thank him for that. 

Tifa stole a glance towards the Turk. It was quick enough to go unnoticed but long enough to scrutinize him entirely. He still wore his fiery hair in that rugged and tousled ponytail with the standard pair of black shades; a few of the short and showering spikes he called bangs drifted casually in front of eyes that swirled with Mako. A simple pair of beige pants and a black leather jacket over his top was all he wore. She was surprised to see him out of the navy uniform that came to be known as an icon for the Turks. But she had to admit, she was glad he was making his money by other means. 

Despite the fall of Shinra in Midgar nearly two years prior, she was not ignorant of the fact that her good friend and former Shinra employee Reeve Parker had organized a similar corporation to the fallen electric power company. Instead of one thriving on corrupt politics, tyranny, and greed, Reeve ran the corporation for the good of the people from his headquarters in Junon, hiring many of the former employees of Shinra, including the remaining Turks, and working around the clock for the restoration of the damage the corporation had caused during its reign. Neo-Shinra was what he called it. 

Tifa blinked out of her reverie and looked to Soleil. 

I asked you if you were going over there or not, but then you just brain farted or something. Soleil squinted her hazel eyes at her friend. You okay? 

Feeling slightly embarrassed and chuckling nervously, Tifa reassured her friend, or at least attempted to, by shaking her head. I'm fine. I'm fine. 

Good, so now you can go over there. 

Soleil's hand came to her hips. She gave her friend an admonishing look. Oh, so you're just going to ignore him? 

Tifa sighed, defeated. Fine. I'll go. But if he pisses me off, Soleil, I swear I'm never talking to you again. 

Atta girl! 

**~ Fin? ~**

**Disclaimer:** _All characters property of their respective owners._

**Author's Notes: **_Ohhh! Twelve reviews! Thank you guys so much! As you can obviously see, the 'winner' of the votings was Reno, fave lil' Turk. _^_^_ I hope I didn't mess up with his characterization; I also hope this chapter did some justice. Oh, and don't mind the name of the Chapters; they're all named after alcoholic drinks. I figured that'd suit Reno. Please leave a review; I live for them and I squeal with joy everytime I receive a new one (well, providing it's not a flame). I'd love to hear from you!_


	3. Come In With Me

  


  
  


Strawberry Wine  
by: Pollensalta 

Chapter Three 

With a deep intake of breath, Tifa made her way over to the cornered booth where the familiar redheaded Turk sat. The intense scent of spicy aftershave tickled her nostrils when she neared him. Alluring smell or not, she still couldn't push out the dreadful memory that was the end of Sector Seven. 

* * * * 

_You're too late Once I push this button_

_Tifa's ruby eyes widened and her mouth fell agape in horror as Reno dispassionately depressed the button. The button that would activate the dropping of the plate that hung over Midgar's Sector Seven. Dozens of people were going to die._

_Tifa wouldn't have that. Sector Seven was her home. She couldn't idly stand by and watch it fall to pieces. But she couldn't harm her friend, either. Yes, Reno was her friend. _Was_ being the key word He was a part of the enemy and though she didn't want to admit it, she knew the days of Reno and Rude frequenting her bar, with the former making jokes and the latter making blunt yet comical statements, were completely over. _

_She shrieked. We have to disarm it! Cloud! Barret! Please!_

_I can't have you do that, Reno said. No one gets in the way of Reno and the Turks. _

_The redhead extracted a nightstick, his favored weapon, from within the insides of his navy blazer. He rested the cold hard steel against his left shoulder and beckoned the trio of Tifa, Cloud, and Barret with his right hand, sneering. It made Tifa hiss._

_Driven by a rage she never knew she possessed, Tifa was the first one to throw the blows during the fight, having an advantage over teammates in terms of speed. Even though her fist delved roughly into his cheek and instigated a discoloration in that handsome face, Reno made no attempt in attacking her and focused on Cloud and Barret instead. His Turk Pyramid kept her from approaching him, though, until one of Barret's stray bullets pierced the golden trap Tifa was placed in and released her with no harm done._

_By that time, however, Reno had stopped fighting altogether. And though he suffered a pretty large gash on his flank thanks to Cloud's sword, he seemed composed and perhaps even proud of himself. Coolly, he gazed at his Rolex. It's time_

_And with that, Reno had quickly departed the scene, leaving Cloud, Barret, and Tifa to deal with the reality that Sector Seven was finished._

* * * * 

Tifa and her friends had escaped Sector Seven with their lives, luckily. When they had finally sought rest in the home of Elmyra Gainsborough, a myriad emotions and questions permeated through Tifa's mind. Guilt—she believed the burden of the death of the people of the sector fell upon the shoulders of AVALANCHE. Regret—if the rebels hadn't terrorized' Shinra, would that have changed anything? Anger—Reno was supposed to be her friend; how could he have done such a thing? 

Are you going to stand there all night, staring off into outer space? 

Reno's voice brought her out of her reverie. She quickly glanced towards him and was met with a pair of striking eyes. Unlike Cloud's deep blues, Reno's favored peridot, and combined with the Mako, it took on a tint of aquamarine. 

Oh. I get it. Reno blinked as he leaned further back into the squishy leather seat of the booth, folding his arms. 

One of Tifa's eyebrows inclined. What do you mean? 

He gestured for her to sit across from him and she did, hesitating at first. You're probably thinking about why in the Hell did I buy you that bottle of strawberry wine, right? 

Although the concept didn't occur to Tifa prior to his inquiry, it did strike her as unusual, if not flattering, that Reno would go out of his way to buy her such a rarity. Why _did_ he buy her that, anyway? 

Kinda sorta, she replied. She attempted to seem calm and relaxed by imitating his slouchy posture in her own seat. 

Kinda sorta'? 

Tifa sighed. Reno, I don't know if you were born again yesterday, but as far as I'm concerned, the events of last year wouldn't exactly lead me to think that you're trying to lick old wounds by buying me something like this. She tipped her chin at the bottle that rested on the table that separated her from the Turk. So what exactly are you trying to imply here? 

What? You mean I can't lick old wounds? 

I didn't say that. 

But that's what you implied. And that's what I'm trying to do-lick wounds, that is, the redhead replied. 

All right, so what you're saying is, you want to let bygones be bygones? she asked. Reno nodded. Why not just write a letter of apology or something? 

What can I say? I have shitty handwriting, Tifa. 

Tifa rolled her eyes. 

The Turk shrugged at the incredulous tone of her voice and reached within his jacket's pockets for a pack of cigarettes and a magenta lighter. With a flick of his thumb, the zippo ignited the tobacco stick in between his perfect lips. He took a deep, long drag and blew out the smoke in a direction away from the brunette seated across from him. 

Tifa watched this and with a tone to match her deadpanned face told him: You can't smoke in here. 

Reno shrugged again. 

Tifa stood from her place and leaned her lithe figure over the surface of the table to pluck the cigarette from Reno with her fingers. You're _not_ supposed to smoke in here. Even Cid Highwind isn't allowed to smoke in here, she told him, a smirk forming on her lips. 

Reno allowed the cigarette to be taken away from him and in response, his eyebrows wiggled. That made Tifa's smug grin melt away. she asked. 

No further warnings were given and Reno got to his feet, slightly bending over at the waist so that his face was right in front of Tifa's, his lips just centimeters away from her own. The temperature on the surface of Tifa's skin skyrocketed. And when she felt his chocolaty breath, her fair skin reddened instantly. Needless to say, she looked taken aback and maybe even nervous. Reno noticed this. 

He smirked. 

She watched as his eyes traveled over her face, using their proximity as an advantage to capture her beauteous features into his memory, until they stopped at her mouth. She heard his clothes rustle as he inched closer to her with his head careening to the side. Tifa's entire body stiffened and she screwed her eyes shut, feeling him moving in on her. Holy Shiva, he was going in for the kill Her heart pounded loudly in her ears. And then 

His lips did not brush against her own, contrary to what she had initially imagined. Instead, his cheek brushed along the side of her heated face and he leaned in, letting out a chuckle that tickled against her ear. She shivered some. You're just dying to know why I got you that wine, aren'tcha? 

Flustered and still red in the face, Tifa quickly pulled back away from Reno and slumped into her seat. Of course I am, Reno. The Hell do you think I came here for? 

The Turk laughed as he lowered himself into his seat. This made the brunette peeved and she frowned at him before grabbing the bottle of wine and prepared to leave. Reno's hand blanketed her own, preventing her from doing so. She tensed and looked back to him. All traces of his smugness evaporated. I'm serious, Lockheart, he said, softly. Do you _really_ want to know? 

Reno nodded once and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. He toyed with the silky ribbon wrapped about the neck of the wine bottle, staring out of the café's window at the gentle, falling snow. Well, you know that song you sang on Open Mic Night last Wednesday? 

Tifa thought about it for a moment before nodding. Strawberry Wine, right? 

Again, Reno nodded, looking towards her. 

Then the thought smacked her across the head. How do you know about that? 

I was here. 

You were? 

I shit you not. Tifa opened her mouth to speak but Reno continued on. I didn't say anything cause I figured you wouldn't care-and I didn't think about coming back here anyway. I mean, shit, cafés aren't my sort of place. I'm a bar type of guy in case you didn't notice. But anyway, I must say that the song you sang, no matter how old it is, had some sort of impact. I don't know what kind, though. Guess it's why I came back here every other night since then. 

You came here every other night? 

S'what I said, right? 

Reno wh— 

Just then, the bubbly voice of a certain cherry-haired waitress broke into their conversation. Sorry to butt in, you two, but I got bad news for ya. We're about to close up shop here in about five minutes. 

They're already closing? Tifa glanced to her wristwatch. 11:54 pm. We've been talking for over an hour and a half? 

Alright then, Soleil. Thanks. For everything, Tifa said as she buttoned the snaps of her black velvet coat and fixed her charcoal colored scarf. 

Soleil winked. You stoppin' by the day after tomorrow? 

I don't think she is, Reno interrupted. She and I have plans. 

Oh really? Soleil asked with a smirk, oblivious to the sharp and venomous glare Tifa gave Reno. And just what kind of plans do you two have? 

Again, Tifa was interrupted by Reno. Oh, you know, a simple date. That sort of thing, the male redhead replied casually, regarding Tifa with a casual shrug when she shot him another glare. 

He mouthed a towards her and Soleil didn't notice. She was too preoccupied with nudging her elbow into Tifa's side. Best of luck to ya then. 

With a wink, Soleil departed, disappearing into the employees lounge in the back of the café while the other patrons of the Kalm Kup began to leave. Tifa sought to join them. She gave Reno one last scowl before hurrying to the door and heading out into the evening air. 

Hey Tifa! Wait up! 

Screw off, Reno! she snapped as she marched down the slush-covered sidewalks of Kalm. She picked up her angry stride upon feeling him run up to catch up with her. 

Oh come on! Don't tell me you're pissed off at what I told that waitress! 

Tifa suddenly stopped in her tracks and glared at him. Of course I'm pissed off! she practically shouted into his face. How dare you go ahead and do something like that! 

I was just— 

I don't give a flying fuck, Reno! 

Reno was genuinely taken aback. During the few months before the demise of Sector Seven, the Turk had seen Tifa deal with more than a few hooligans that had somehow made their way into her bar. Oftentimes, she'd give them a verbal warning or a mighty shove that would send them straight out of the door. But then there were the times when about three unlucky fellows had pushed the wrong buttons. The bruises and shattered egos of those men proved that behind her gentle exterior, Tifa was quite a sight to see when she was truly angered. But he had never seen her so angry. The date comment must have been the straw that broke the camel's back. 

He was intrigued. You said fuck. 

No shit! 

And shit. 

Tifa saw no further reason to stick around the redhead anymore. She threw her arms up into the air in exasperation and stomped off in the direction of her home. 

Reno's hands lashed out and ensnared tightly about her bicep, keeping her at bay and pulling her close to him. Chill out babe! I was only joking! 

Tifa tried to wiggle herself free from his grip, but to no avail. Despite his lanky looks, Reno was actually powerful. Let me go! 

Look. I'm sorry... 

Several pedestrians witnessed what went on between the two but said nothing of it. Apparently, this sort of thing was nothing out of the ordinary in the streets of Kalm nearing midnight. Reno released the red-faced Tifa and she huffed, gathering her coat closer to her shapely form. I can't believe you told her that. What the Hell is the matter with you? 

I don't know, the Turk mumbled, scratching the nape of his neck through his hair. I assumed you'd see nothing wrong with that and maybe even play along. I didn't think you'd go apeshit 

Well, you know what happens when you _assume_. 

Ass outta you and me, blah blah blah. I heard this all before. No need to beat the horse anymore. It's dead. One of Reno's hands waved to and fro, dismissively. So are you? 

Am I what? Tifa asked. 

Are you going to let me take you out? 

My, he was straightforward. Tifa's eyebrows creased together as she eyed him suspiciously. You're serious, she said, rather than asked. 

A pair of hands fell upon the woman's shoulders. Of course I am. 

I don't know about this 

Perfectly natural, Reno said with an accepting nod, removing his hands. That amazed her. She assumed he'd get on his knees and beg for her to take him out. But then again, Reno was never one to do so. He was too proud to beg. Hell, he was too proud period. What was that line about assuming again? 

If you're not ready to go out with me yet, then I'll respect your decision and wait for you to make up your mind, he added. 

Those words appalled Tifa. 

Reno's actions surprised her even more when he slightly hunched his form over with a curtsy, one arm extended and all. At least let me take you home? Kalm's no longer a safe town you know. 

Though she was more than capable of taking care of herself, Tifa couldn't resist 

**~Fin?~**

**Disclaimer:** All characters here are properties of their respective owners. I'm not making money out of this. And the song Strawberry Wine belongs to My Bloody Valentine (One version of it, anyway), and Pat Benatar (the other version). 

**Author's Notes: **_Urgh. For some reason, I am not satisfied with this chapter (more so than usual)—writing it was like pulling teeth. Please let me know what you guys think! I live for reviews and e-mails!_


	4. Kiss Me Quick

  


  
  


Strawberry Wine  
by: Pollensalta 

Chapter Four 

You've been hushed the entire walk, you know. 

You're quiet, Tifa. 

The redhead dug into the hollow pockets of his black leather jacket and pulled out a small coin before handing it over to the brunette that strolled languidly beside him. A gil for your thoughts. 

I'm just kind of 

Kind of 

Tifa finished while palming the coin. 

Do tell. 

Tiny flakes of pure white snow flew off her bangs when she shook her head slightly, the strands becoming damp and curly as a result. It's nothing really, she said hastily. I'm just having a hard time trusting you and believing that you, Reno, a former Turk of _Shinra_, are being so friendly towards me. And flirtatious to boot. It's like a pill I can't swallow. 

Reno's Mako eyes peered down at his feet moving below him. Okay, true, I worked for Shinra and did some pretty mean shit for them, but that doesn't mean you can't trust me. And Hell, wasn't I friendly with you before the proverbial shit hit the fan? Weren't Rude and I your best customers when you ran the Seventh Heaven Bar? 

I know, but I— 

Swiftly, Reno glanced up to her and spoke, cutting her off with his frank words, It's not news to me, it's not news to Rude, and it's definitely not news to you. But at one point in time, we _were_ friends. Good friends. Remember that? 

Yes. I remember those days. Tifa pursed her lips and glanced away from him, staring off at the bleak, snow-covered walkways of Kalm. But how could you consider me a friend? What kind of a friend destroys your home? 

Tifa heard a low groan rumble within Reno's throat when her words had brought back memories of Sector Seven's demise. She too had wanted to push away those dreadful memoirs into the recesses of her mind. But every time she saw that navy uniform or that rebellious mane of red hair, everything seemed to crash back down on her in an instant. 

I didn't do it because I wanted to, Tifa. 

She turned her head to face him with a burning glare. Then why? 

You know why, the Turk replied, exasperatedly. Direct orders from President Shinra. 

But you- 

You think I _wanted_ to do that?! he interrupted her brusquely, the tone of his voice raising just a pitch. He saw her bristle. Nevertheless, she fell silent. He continued, It wasn't as if I was the one who came up with the idea of dropping the Sector Plate. And it wasn't as if I exactly enjoyed pressing that detonator, breaking Barret's nose, and trapping you in that Turk Pyramid—okay, so maybe I _did_ get pleasure from seeing Mister T bleed from the nose like that, but I would have preferred to do it under other circumstances, y'know? 

* * * * 

_Pale and slender digits massaged his temples, one pair consisting of his index and middle on either side of his head. His sleek, shoulder-length black hair moved to some extent with the motion. He forced himself to count to ten in his thoughts while performing some sort of eased breathing pattern. He was obviously very annoyed, as he stared dully into the eyes of the redhead that sat in the lounging chair not too far from him._

_I'm not too hunky dory with the idea either, Reno, he droned, but an order is an order. This is direct. From President Shinra to Heidegger, from Heidegger to me, and from me to you: _you're_ the one assigned to do it._

_Reno sneered and took a hearty swig of whiskey straight. He exhaled brashly when the amber colored liquid slid down his throat at such an insane speed and amount. Why can't you do it? Or Rude?_

_ the word was hissed through gnashed pearly whites, Rude is assigned to showing the ropes to the new Turk, Elena. And while you're operating the Plate releaser, I'll be in Sector Five, picking up the Ancient in the copter. It's all synchronized. Didn't you listened in on the briefing?_

_Ain't there someone else who can do the job? I'm not too peachy keen with the controls of the releaser_

__

_And why drop the plate on that entire Sector just to get rid of those AVALANCHE bastards? Why not just send me, you, Rude, this new Elena chick, some cannon fodder security officers, and just O.K. Corral anyone that even looks remotely like a terrorist?_

_The raven-haired Turk sighed out, falling silent._

_Another sip. You understand me, don't you Tseng?_

_Understanding is not part of my being your immediate supervisor, Reno Talor. Tseng's words were characteristically icy. And it shouldn't be a part of you, period. You're a Turk and your job is to follow the orders bestowed upon you. Whether you choose to follow them lies on you—though I am sure you know of what happens to those that choose to defy orders. You remember Elza Van Lich, don't you?_

_Reno snarled inwardly, downing the last of the bitter alcohol. While he honored himself as being the second in command of the prestigious Turks regime of Shinra Inc., he had to admit: he did not particularly like every order thrown in his direction. A kidnapping here, a severe beating there They were often the most ludicrous jobs on the Planet, yet the Turks were required to accept them in a tight-lipped fashion and accomplish them without fault. Several Turks had opposed Shinra's policies in the past. There was that Vincent Valentine from about thirty years back. Legend that he was, he had gone against Professor Hojo's Jenova Project. And where was he now? Locked up in the basement of a mansion in Nibelheim, or so that lunatic scientist's reports stated. Reno never bothered to check. _

_And Elza? Where was she now? Reno had known her since he was recruited into the Turks. His last memories of her were of a young woman opposing orders that required the assassination of innocent women and children in some uproar in Sector Two some months back. She was escorted away from the HQ by members of SOLDIER, only to never be seen again and to be replaced by this new Elena person. _

_Reno never spoke out against his orders until the day Tseng strolled into the Turks' Lounge while the former had been drinking and coolly told him to drop the plate onto the Seventh Sector of Midgar. Reno wasn't exactly sure as to why, but he felt an unexpected fear bubble up inside of his stomach at what might happen to that little establishment he had come to frequent and love. And to what might happen to its proprietress no less. _

_Rude would have had a heart attack if anything serious happened to Tifa. And Reno Well, he didn't want to think of that_

_Now, I'm not too sure if you have friends or families or girlfriends in that Sector, Tseng continued, oblivious to the looks the firey Turk gave him, but I really don't care. There are far too many things occurring with this Corporation to neglect because of a personal problem. Hojo's research, the Neo-Midgar Plan, the Mako reactor reconstructions-everything. AVALANCHE is an obstacle and needs to be disposed of. And you're going to do it. End of story._

_Tseng gave Reno one last look of what appeared to be disgust before he departed the Turks' Lounge post haste, leaving the redhead alone within the room to dwell with his thoughts and an empty bottle of Jack Daniels. Tifa had given Reno that bottle a few weeks prior in commemoration of his twenty-fourth birthday. He remembered the words she gave him along with the gift._

_Let it fall, and I'll kill you._

_Was that an omen?_

* * * * 

So, what you're saying is, you didn't want to do it? 

Reno nodded his reply. 

You could have fooled me, Tifa said with a caustic grin. You looked pretty smug, even with that injury you sustained. I remember that day as if it were yesterday. 

So do I, Reno added, shrugging and kicking a stray aluminum can out of his path. I think about it every day. 

You do? 

Yeah. After hearing that Sector Seven went kaput, Rude must've drank three six packs in the infirmary for me. And that was before we realized AVALANCHE was in the HQ, trying to save the Ancient we got. What was her name again? Earth? Air? 

Tifa corrected him. 

What you said. Tseng had quite the thing for her. Tifa rolled her eyes at Reno's apparent one-tracked mind. Anyway, Rude and I were elated to hear that you were well. The only reason you guys were _not_ attacked in the Mythril Mines was because of me, y'know. I told the others to let you guys be. I guess I was sort of repenting for what I did to Sector Seven. 

But then work got in the way, so we had to fight in Gongaga—you weren't there, were you? Oh good, cause some revelations were made beforehand. Heh heh—Ow! Don't pinch my arm! A pause. Then there was the Sunken Gelnika. And before that was Wutai. You remember Wutai, don't you? 

_Of course I remember Wutai!_ She wanted to blurt out. How _could_ Tifa forget? It was there that the lecherous ball of slime known as Don Corneo had kidnapped Yuffie Kisaragi, right after the mischievous teenager had robbed Tifa and her friends of their Materia. While AVALANCHE bared the dangers of fighting enemies without Materia for their search, the Don had taken Yuffie for his own within the town, along with the female Turk Elena, claiming that either of the two females was to be his future bride. 

It was the first, and only, time that AVALANCHE and the Turks worked side by side, for they had a common enemy. However, things seemed a bit tense at first, but Reno and Rude agreed to set aside their differences with and sought out to seek their comrade, with the help of Tifa, Cloud Strife, and the late Aeris Gainsborough. 

Tifa had never seen Reno act so professional. The way he gave out clues, reassured Rude (who seemed worried about Elena), searched Da-Chao Mountain, and disposed of that fat letch for his comrade was rather admirable. That day, Tifa learned there was more to Reno and The Turks than killing and following orders from tyrannical superiors. 

Yes, I remember Wutai, she finally said. 

Bet you loved how I handled everything, huh? The grin on Reno's face was coy. It made Tifa shiver. 

Spare me. 

The eleven-story apartment complex Tifa called her home came more into their view as she and Reno traveled further along the long sidewalk. Soon enough, the two were upon its threshold. 

As Tifa fished through her pockets for the keys to the lobby door, she peered at Reno. Every now and then, she'd notice him rub his hands together and blow on them, hoping the combination of the friction and his breath would keep him warm. It _was_ rather cold, she noticed, and he'd be lucky to not catch pneumonia on his way back to his home. Wherever that was. 

You, uh, wanna come inside? For some coffee? 

I've had enough coffee to make me wanna piss like a racehorse, Tifa, Reno replied. 

Lovely imagery. 

Reno snickered and took hold of the lobby door Tifa had swung ajar after she unlocked it. Instantly, he was met with the warmth of the interior. But if it's to escape this cold, I'll oblige. 

* * * * 

Nice place. 

Thanks. I just got it like two months ago. 

Tifa's apartment was exactly like Reno had presumed it would be: feminine and clean, with that fresh smell of cinnamon in the air. During his countless trysts with countless women, he had grown accustomed to that particular smell. It didn't surprise him when that was the first thing he noticed when he stepped foot into the martial artist's abode. 

Thanks to the dim lights of the apartment, he took everything he saw into account. A quaint little maple coffee table sat in the center of the living room, standing atop a neutral colored and patterned thrown rug-all in the midst of a contemporary black leather living room set consisting of a stationary sofa, loveseat, and recliner. Either Tifa was a neat freak or she had one Hell of a personal interior decorator. 

His thoughts favored the former when he eyed her gesturing for him to remove his shoes and his jacket prior to entering her apartment. He obliged, though not without a sneer. 

I don't want you dirtying up my new place, she commented with a smirk while making her way into the adjacent kitchen to prepare the drinks. 

So how'd you afford all this stuff, anyway? Reno asked loudly from his locale in the cozy living room. 

There was the sound of a running faucet. Three words for you, Tifa spoke above the hail of water. Mastered All Materia. 

Fair enough. The Turk snickered. 

He decided to make himself more comfortable while his hostess prepared things in the kitchen. He took a moment to glance at an array of framed pictures resting atop a small table beside the sofa. They were mostly of people Reno did not know, probably relatives of Tifa. One picture, however, did grab his attention. 

It was a picture of the members of AVALANCHE, all standing proudly on a beautiful green knoll, probably near Rocket Town. He assumed it was a Post-Meteor photograph, judging from the lack of the Ancient's presence in it. On the far right of the group stood the legendary Turk, Vincent Valentine himself. His arms were crossed and he looked not too enthused about taking the photograph. On the far left side, beside that weird cat thing Hojo was planning to experiment on was the ninja girl, Yuffie, that was abducted alongside Elena in that fiasco with Don Corneo nearly a year prior; she didn't exactly stand-she had timed her jump perfectly for the camera and finished off the rather cute but immature pose with peace signs. 

Reno then took notice of his new boss, Reeve, standing near the center and looking rather perturbed by the smoke emanating from the cigarette in between the lips of the pilot known as Cid Highwind, who stood beside the former Shinra executive thanks to their similarities in height. The tallest one of the group, Barret Wallace, stood in the back with a cute little girl (Marlene was it?) perched on his shoulder, mimicking Yuffie's peace signs with her own stubby little fingers. 

Cloud Strife stood in the dead center; one of his hands rested on the hilt of the massive blade strapped to his back and a small but still confident grin stretched his lips some. To the blonde's right stood Tifa Lockheart herself, her hands clasped behind her lithesome figure. Though she smiled warmly for the camera, Reno noticed a disturbing hint of emotion within her ruby colored eyes. Was it a longing for the one that stood beside her? Or was it loneliness? 

What're you doing? 

Tifa's voice startled him, nearly causing him to drop the frame he held. 

Nothing, just looking at these pictures, Reno coolly replied, setting the frame back down and turning around. 

Oh. Well, enjoy. The brunette set a wooden breakfast-in-bed tray down onto the coffee table. Two mugs of hot cider and a plate of ginger snaps decorated the tray. 

Man, Tifa, you sure know how to please a guy! Reno eagerly took a mug and a handful of the cookies in hand and began to indulge himself. 

Tifa couldn't help but frown as crumbs from the cookies sprinkled onto her spotless floor and couch. She nearly gasped when it appeared that some of the cider was going to spill. Reno, could you be at least a little more careful? 

You're making a mess! 

Ah, don't worry about that babe, he said with a shrug before wolfing down a cookie. No harm done. 

I'm gonna harm _you_ in a minute! Tifa sputtered, hastily gathering some fallen crumbs into a small pile with folded paper towels. 

Sheesh! It's just a bunch of crumbs! You should see my place! 

Tifa wrinkled her nose at the mere thought. No, I shouldn't. 

Oh, you should babe, you should. Reno flashed her a wicked grin. 

A hand came upon Tifa's hip. If it's anything like I imagine it to be, I can just visit a pig sty. Same difference, right? 

Puh! You wish! 

Reno nodded and crossed his arms over his chest with a self-assured countenance. I'm not anal about little itty bitty things like crumbs yet my pad's still fresh and clean. 

_This_ I have _got_ to see, Tifa remarked. 

Okay, then how about tomorrow? For dinner? If my place is a dump, then I'm free to do your bidding. He held his hand out towards her, issuing the challenge. 

Fine. You're on. Tifa shook his hand with a firm grip, smirking. 

And I'll cook, Reno added. 

_You_? Cook? 

Hey. It's a damned _fact_ that Reno Talor can whip the Frugal Gourmet's ass in cooking. 

In response to that, Tifa giggled into her palm. But she acquiesced to his offer to cook, nevertheless. 

Poor Reno did not what he had gotten himself into. 

**~Fin?~**

**Disclaimer:** All characters here are properties of their respective owners. I'm not making money out of this. 

**Author's Notes: **_How was that? Too long? Boring? =| Please let me know what you guys think! I live for reviews and e-mails!_ _And thanks to everyone that has been e-mailing me and reviewing me! Your feedback motivates me. _^_^


	5. Kiss on the Cheek

  


Strawberry Wine  
by: Pollensalta 

Chapter Five 

Only when he strolled home approximately two hours after sharing hot cider and old stories and jokes with Tifa did Reno even think about the situation he had blindly smooth-talked his way into. He had lied. And lied bad. The cleanliness of his apartment was debatable—while he thought a few strewn shirts here and there and some magazines and empty cans of beer on every horizontal surface in sight was tidy, several of his guests did comment on the apartment's state. His motto was always: if it didn't smell bad, it wasn't dirty. 

But after seeing the spotless place Tifa called home, he regretted every word he had said. And cooking! The blue moon shone in the sky whenever he had something edible in his refrigerator or cupboards, and pigs flew if they were finished before their expiration dates. And Heaven forbid the non-perishables lacked the words somewhere on their labels. 

Reno groaned. What did I just get myself into? 

* * * * 

Patiently, he waited for someone on the other line to pick up, running his fingers along the smooth mold of the black PHS. After about four rings, his prayers were answered. 

Hey, Phoebe! 

the woman on the other end sounded somewhat surprised. Wow, it's been a while. 

Look, I was wondering if you— the Turk paused, lifting an eyebrow at a sudden wailing in the background on Phoebe's end. Is that a kid I hear? 

Oh yes, that's my little dovey wovey. He's three and such a little angel. Just li—JASON BYRON MANN, IF YOU DON'T PUT THAT SALAD SHOOTER DOWN RIGHT THIS INSTANT, SO HELP ME GOD 

So much for his left eardrum. Did I call at a bad time? Reno asked, quietly. 

Oh no, of course not. The shifts in Phoebe's tone and mood frightened the Turk somewhat. He knew her to be a little on the moody side, which was part of the reason he never pursued a relationship with her in the first place, but he never experienced something quite like this. 

So, anyway. I was in town and I figured we could join up for one of your home-cooked meals at my place. Nothing serious, just the two of us, you know? His intentions were to prove otherwise. He had planned to have her come by and cook for him, then escort her out shortly thereafter with the excuse that someone he knew had a bachelor party, or something along that line. She'd forgive him. Phoebe was weird like that. 

Oh! I'd love to! When can— Again, the conversation was interrupted by more tantrums and yelling from Phoebe's toddler, accompanied by the sounds of something, perhaps furniture, crashing. 

Hold on, Reno. Phoebe inhaled. JASON, I SWEAR, IF YOU DON'T GET DOWN FROM THAT CHANDELIER AND GET READY FOR DAY CARE, I AM GOING TO POUR GASOLINE ALL OVER YOU AND LIGHT YOU ON FIRE!! 

Reno cringed. call you later, Phoebe, he hastily said before depressing the end' button of his hand-held phone. He concluded that a life stranded in the center of the Midgar Marshes with several Zoloms would be more pleasant than having to deal with an old flame and her troublesome young son. 

He ran his index down the length of the pages of his black book, skimming through name after feminine name. The majority of names he did not recall, and he found himself attempting to just pick a random one from the bunch and calling the number. It was nearing noon. He didn't have all day to and before his six o' clock meeting with Tifa. 

He decided to do just that, noticing his finger stopped at a particular name: Monica. She had two asterisks by her name in red ink. That had to mean something good, right? 

He dialed in Monica's number and prayed she'd pick up. 

The phone rang only once before a breathless female on the other end practically squealed, harming Reno's right eardrum. 

Reno was stupefied, and maybe even scared, to know that someone whose face was wiped out from his memory predicted his call. Um, hey Monica! he said with feigned enthusiasm. How did you know it was me? 

I have my PHS programmed to ring a particular way for when you call me! 

Oh, that'sneat. Listen, I no longer live in Junon, I— 

You live in Kalm City in the apartment building right across the street from The General's Pub on the third floor! Monica finished for him. 

Reno turned pale. He had the sudden urge to rise from his couch and close the window curtains. 

Baby, anything you need, I'll do it for you! Monica sang. Just call off that restraining order you have on me and— 

The conversation with Monica ended right there. He hung up on her without a second thought. 

Reno slid the dark blue curtains of his living room to a close and retreated into the cushions of his couch, shivering. He remembered why he had put two asterisks by her name: to avoid her. Monica was fanatical and psycho, and she scared the living daylights out of him. 

Sighing and slumping back onto his couch, Reno flipped open the address book and looked through the names, reminding himself to avoid all sorts of names in with asterisks. A name stood out from all the others on the same page, particularly because it was circled. Asterisks meant the girl was crazy. What did a circle around her name mean? 

Only one way to find out. 

The seven digits of Rachel's phone number proved to be in service and Reno thanked his lucky stars silently, waiting for her to answer her line. 

Hey Rachel! 

Is this Reno? 

The one and only, baby! Lis— 

FUCK OFF, SLIMEBALL! 

_-click-_

The Turk stared at his PHS, appalled. The circle meant she was pissed off at him, probably. 

Frustration took over disbelief, and Reno threw his black book across the living room. It landed in a heap of old papers and documents from work along with some magazines and books. Within that pile he spotted a very thick and very bright yellow book. 

The Kalm Yellow Pages phone directory. 

A sneaky smile curved his lips as he trotted over to retrieve the book. 

**** 

A series of harsh knocks startled the redhead Turk while he was busy with stuffing his laundry into the hallway closet along with the books, the unpacked boxes, and the jackets 

Uh, who is it? he called out, even if he knew full and well who was on the other side of the door. 

It's me. Tifa. 

Just a second! 

Using his hip to push a reluctant pile of clean bed sheets into the closet, he quickly retreated from the heap threatening to spill out and closed the door to prevent it from doing so. And when he got to the main door of his apartment, he stopped to check himself in the door side mirror; he had it there for the few, deciding minutes before he had stepped out of his place for a date or before others stepped in when the date was over. 

He gave his reflection a once-over and deemed himself to look presentable. After his quick shower, he had put on a simple close-fit and ribbed long-sleeved black shirt with a v-neck, and charcoal gray pants. His damp hair was worn in its usual flamboyant style, a few wisps of red dangling here and there. The tips of his fingers ran over his smooth, clean-cut face. _No five o'clock shadow. Weapon set and ready._

Before Tifa could wait any longer, Reno swung the door open and presented his lovely guest with a fawning grin. Heh, sorry about that. He looked her over. You look great. 

Why thank you, the modest young woman said. She wore a pair of dark blue flares that hugged her shapely thighs and loosened some about her ankles; a red turtleneck peeked out from the crevice of a matching dark blue denim jacket. 

Come in Come in 

A smiling Tifa led herself into his apartment and immediately began scrutinizing the place. She glanced this way and that, her silence making the otherwise cool and casual Reno turn into a cat on a hot tin roof. Um. What's the matter? he asked her as she removed her jacket. 

Ohhhhhh nothing, the brunette nearly sang her reply. 

So Uh, let's eat, mm? Reno figured food would get her mind off of his apartment's cleanliness. 

From the looks of it, however, it wasn't. Before Reno could step into his quaint kitchenette, Tifa was espying the area around his couch. _Please don't look behind it_, he pleaded in his thoughts. _Please don't look._

She looked behind the couch. 

_Damn it!_

Oh, so you keep your comforters behind your couch, Tifa declared, teasingly, while pulling an olive green comforter from its hiding spot. She held it up with her fingers. They teach you this in Neo-Shinra? 

Har. Dee. Har. Har. Reno grumbled and snatched the blanket from her, setting it onto the couch. He'd sleep on it later. Can we eat now? 

Wait, wait, Tifa then tiptoed over to the hall closet. A wide and mischievous grin, the kind children displayed when they were about to open their Christmas presents several days early played about her face. This I have _got_ to see 

No, Tifa, wait 

It was too late. By the time Reno started his warning, Tifa had already opened the closet's door. The piles of clothes and blankets and other paraphernalia stumbled out of their tiny confinement and onto the floor. 

Tifa merely gazed at the junk with a smirk. It was as if she expected such a thing to happen. She looked to Reno. A very discomfited Reno. he began, rubbing the nape of his neck, the maid is on vacation. 

Are you sure she's on vacation? Tifa gesticulated to the mountain with a hand. Maybe she's trapped somewhere underneath all of this. 

Fine. We'll clean this after we're done eating, okay? Reno suggested. 

He watched as she doubled over and grabbed an armful of clothes. Oh come on! Don't tell me you want to clean this _now_. 

Tifa mused, Yes. I do Now, where's your bedroom? The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can eat. 

Reno stared at her in disbelief. You're serious, he muttered. 

She tipped a brow, expecting him to respond to her. 

Then he sighed. Second door on the left. 

* * * * 

Vegetable stir-fry? 

Reno shrugged and took a hearty sip of his chilled beer (he refused to drink anything else with his dinner). What, you don't think I'm that type of guy? 

Not really, Tifa replied with a shrug, swirling the vegetables within its own sauce and rice with her fork. I always figured you to be more of a barbecue ribs and pork rinds type of guy. What made you decide to prepare such a meal? 

I wanted to prepare something that would taste good but not take forever. You know, like that commercial says: Sunday dinner, Tuesday effort'. Carefully, Reno eyed her, awaiting any reactions she might have towards the food. Since they began eating, she remained somewhat apathetic towards the food's taste, having only nodded her head with an impressed look once. like it? 

Tifa nodded and shoved a forkful of the stir-fry into her mouth at the same time. She thoughtfully chewed. Mm-hm. I'm very impressed. How did you learn how to make such a Wutainese delicacy so well? Is there a recipe out that I'm not aware of? 

Are you serious? Reno failed to notice her inquiry. 

Of course. Didn't you learn that honesty is the best policy? 

Right. 

So, are you going to tell me? 

Tell you what? 

Where did you get this recipe? Tifa pointed to the meager remainder of food on her plate with her fork. 

The cup of beer the Turk held was set down, its contents long gone. Reno stared at the frothy hops at the bottom of the glass. His jaw was set firm and his slender red eyebrows made a line across the center of his forehead. Promise not to get mad at me? his voice was suddenly soft. 

Caught off guard, Tifa glanced at him. He was slowly tracing the circular edge of the beer glass with his finger. Depends on what you're going to tell me, she replied, though she was more than curious at his sudden change in behavior. 

Just promise me. 

I didn't cook the food, he blurted out. 

The silence she fed Reno killed him. Pack your bags, kids. We're going on a guilt trip. He sighed. The stuff is from a Wutainese restaurant in town. I threw away all of the cartons and bags and used my own plates and silverware. I pretended I cooked the food so So that I could impress you. 

I know, I know. That was low. Even for me. But I couldn't help it, Reno went on to say, tugging on the baby hairs fanning his brow in frustration. I kinda talked my way into this with a lie. And then the only thing that I sought to work it out with was another lie And now 

GOD. Please! Say something! I hate the Rude treatment! He pulled harder on his hair. The pain did little to faze him, though. He was too preoccupied with the feeling of guilt permeating in his mind. All those years working with the Turks and with Shinra had made him apathetic towards this thing called guilt'. Yet, whenever the topic was relevant towards the ruby-eyed maiden seated before him, this guilt' had a way of creeping up on the Turk. It made him uncomfortable. 

Tifa's hand blanketed his bicep. It had a peculiar warmth to it, Reno noticed. Don't beat yourself up, she said, we all do our little_things_ to impress other people. I mean, I didn't appreciate being lied to but I see your point. 

Reno, who had his eyes closed throughout the length of his confession towards her, peeked open an eye at her when she finally spoke to him. Appalled, he opened both eyes and blinked at her, incredulously. He didn't think this honesty' thing so many people, including Elena, had spoken of would work so easily. There _had_ to be a catch. I don't think you heard me right, Tifa. So, I'm going to repeat myself. I didn't— 

I heard you the first time, Reno. 

Heh 

Tifa shook her head, fighting back the urge to chuckle. If you couldn't cook, why didn't you invite me to a restaurant? 

I read somewhere that women appreciate it more when a guy cooks for them instead of taking them out to some joint. 

The fork made a musical tingle when Tifa tapped her fork against the edge of her plate. But the thing is, you _didn't_ cook this for me. 

Exactly. Why is why I'm up shit's creek without a paddle. 

So why not start over? 

Reno blinked. Come again? 

I said, why not start over?'. You know, start anew, clean slate, new leaf. Tifa's hands began moving along with her speech, a habit she picked up from bar tending in Midgar. 

So let me get this straight, Reno paused to lean back in his seat. A new white cigarette was placed in between his tiers and he lit it with a Zippo. The fresh and minty smoke began to linger about him. You're asking me out he couldn't help the smirk that formed. 

At this realization, Tifa's eyes widened. Shyly, she tucked a strand of unkempt hair behind the shell of her ear. Yeah. Then she pointed a finger at him, warningly. But I'm only doing this for you. So don't get any ideas! 

A puff cloud of smoke was released with Reno's chuckle. I won't I won't. He winked at her. So it's a date 

Yeah. It's a date. 

**~Fin?~**

**Disclaimer:** _All characters here are properties of their respective owners. I'm not making money out of this._

**Author's Notes: **_Sorry it took so long for me to post this chapter up, but with the Holidays amongst us all, it was kind of hard. Especially since I'm in Brasil, for Carnival. I had to find some time here and there to update this on my laptop—that's why it seems so rushed. Sorry about that! A few quick notes and you can review (hint, hint) all you want. Firstly, last chapter, I forgot to give credit to the author that created Reno's surname, Talor. I totally forgot and I apologize for using it without giving you credit sooner! So wherever you are, do not kill me! And yes, the names of Reno's past flings were inspired by a TV Show. ^_~ Thanks to everyone that has reviewed and/or e-mailed me! And Happy New Year, everyone!_


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